Paper Walker

Chapter 17

The days start to pass quickly. I have to take in account the time I will lose flying east, because I will lose an entire day instead of just a half one. Isla ensures me my mother is still ignorant and hasn't even been in touch, which doesn't surprise me. My dad however appeared to has left a message on my voicemail and when I replay it, I hurriedly text back that he really doesn't have to come by, that we manage perfectly together and probably won't be at home often enough. I hope my text doesn't divulge my American location.

If Sorley even notices the change in my mood, after my chat with his grandmother, he doesn't mention it. We don't really have any place to go, but I don't care. I came here to see him and meet his grandma, not the entire neighbourhood. There's always another chance for that, if I make it home without my parents noticing and I'm not grounded for the rest of my life.

We sunbathe, watch films, I try out his fitness equipment – I have absolutely no condition – and we read. Sometimes on paper, sometimes in paper.

Not until I thoughtlessly take the third book from a particular series, I notice I've found a new interest. Medical novels. Most have realistic endings, some negative, which I put back on the shelf rather quick. Yet there are a few where real fiction entered the story.

While Sorley is busy with his daily routine of exercises, I lie on his bed reading. The door is open, so I don't vanish inside the book. He didn't want me with him in the room, because I distract him. So does he, by the way, and this is actually quite interesting.

When he comes back and makes a turn to hit the shower, I ask: "Have you read this one?"

"I've read them all", he answers without looking.

"All of them?" Wow. I turn my attention back to the book and say: "In this one they have all these futuristic devices that can do all sorts of stuff."

"If only we had them here, right. Can you hand me a towel?"

I put the book aside and jump up a little clumsy, to get him a towel from his closet. "You'll get lazy", I tease.

"Aye." Sorley heaves a dramatic sigh. "I won't be able to do anything any more. How shall I cope when you go back home?"

He starts to laugh, but my mood drops like a brick in a puddle.

"Only two days left", I mutter and sit down with my hands in my lap.

"Hey, hey, don't be glum. We still have two whole days. That's more than I ever dared to imagine."

"And after that ..."

He rolls his wheelchair over to me and takes my chin between his thumb and index finger. "After that we'll have every day we want, in a thousand different worlds."

"But it won't be real." My words are barely audible.

"It'll have to do, until we find a better way. But we shouldn't worry about that now, or else we'll waste precious time." He pushes himself backwards. "I'm taking a shower and then we'll enjoy every moment, aye?"

Bravely I give him my best imitation of a happy smile and almost convinced, he smiles back. I put the book back on the shelf, linger a bit in front of the door to the bathroom, but then I decide I won't invade that privacy. We're not there yet.

---

Every night we pick a room in the house of the main character whose story we borrow. We kiss, cuddle – Sorley doesn't go as far as he went the first time and I'm glad, but at the same time sad – and we fall asleep in each others arms. Him on his back, I'm making sure of that, and me draped over him.